I recently received the following from Claire about her experience with her wedding dress. It just shows the need to line up a wedding gown specialist who can help with emergency wedding dress problems that arise with almost every wedding.
Confessions From the Dressing Room (from Claire):
"I can't believe this happened to me! Actually - I can believe it because this stuff always happens to me. I just hoped I might be spared from my crazy luck with anything related to "The Big Day", ya know? Isn't there some kind of Fairy Godmother for that? I mean, once I left the official 'wedding gown alterations' summit with my mother, grandmother, future mother-in-law, aunt Faye, ...(get the picture?), I figured I was in the clear. But before I launch into my sob story, let me back track.
I've never been one of those froo-froo girls.What do you expect? I have three older brothers. When my friends went to Junior/Senior Prom, I was in a gym with nine other sweaty girls competing for the basketball championship. I was secretly thrilled I didn't have to wear a prom dress and get all dolled up for some guy I'd hardly remember when I revisited the pictures ten years later. I say "secretly" because my lack of femininity was torture for my mother.
So, when I finally found "The One", and got engaged, I have to admit that even I got a little excited at the prospect of the traditional white dress and the momentous walk down the aisle. Even dress shopping was enjoyable. I guess true love can do that to a person.
Now - fast forward to three days before the wedding. We picked up the dress from the bridal shop after it passed the wedding gown alterations inspection. The regular female entourage was waiting at my mom's house to get a pre-wedding peek. It was embarrassing how cliche it was: my parents' bedroom, the long oval mirror, and my tearful mother adjusting my veil before I turned to the entourage for approval.
There she was. Aunt Faye. Aunt Faye who considered me the daughter she never had. Aunt Faye with the pancake make-up, overly rouged cheeks and slightly garish lipstick. She was barreling towards me with a gleam in her eye and pre-puckered lips. My fantasy walk up the aisle flashed before my eyes but my reflexes were too slow. In a (literally) button-popping, seam splitting embrace - (three of them popped off and the seam tore under my armpit!), her face was was smeared all over the shoulder of my gown. We all gasped in horror. Now what?